“You are so unyieldingly good,” the antagonist whispered. She stroked her fingers over soft lips in a certain kind of awe.
But the protagonist wasn’t soft. That wasn’t what she meant. The protagonist didn’t cave, she didn’t break, she didn’t let the world make her anything other than kind no matter what cruelty it might demand of her.
She made the antagonist feel weak. Fragile, by comparison. Some raw and shattered thing that the world had splintered and made ugly. She made her feel she could be beautiful too. Like maybe, just maybe, she could do everything and anything if only she could clutch even the smallest shard of that deceptively soft strength between her palms.
So maybe that was what the antagonist did. Maybe she would just say that was what she did, later, when sense returned.
She took the protagonist’s face cupped in her hands like a treasure and kissed her hard and it this was senselessness than maybe it was better that sense never came back.
The protagonist made a quiet sound. She surged closer in a heartbeat, her fingers tangling as resolute in the antagonist’s hair as in all things. She was strong and sure. She pulled the antagonist onto her lap like it was nothing, like that was just where she belonged and oh god it felt like she did.
“You’re sweeter than you give yourself credit for,” the protagonist whispered back, and nipped her lip. “Better than you’d allow yourself to be. I can see it.”
“Now, now.” The antagonist raised a brow, and smirked, because her throat had gone thick and her heart was fluttering unforgivably in her chest. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
The protagonist snorted and kissed her again, softer this time and no less eager.
The antagonist melted - had to. Those kisses were something to dissolve in, to get lost in, so feather light and lovely that it scarcely felt like a surrender.
The protagonist’s hands skated down her back. They stroked the swell of her hips, the curve of her arse to tug her closer still.
The antagonist shifted forward the rest of the way, gracelessly. She dipped her mouth along the protagonist’s throat in turn, discovering a delightful catch in her breath and trying it out again.
They paused, in the twilight seconds of what they’d done, lips inches apart and breathing ragged. Eyes gone and dark with want and bright with the adoration of it all at once.
“I can’t be that unyielding,” the protagonist confessed. “Not when, sometimes, I think this is all I want. You may have ruined me.”
The antagonist swallowed. “You may have saved me.”
I love you.
They smiled, twilight smiles, and this time leaned in together for the next kiss.
not a pr0mpt